


A Matter of Convenience

by thethirdstar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post 3x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethirdstar/pseuds/thethirdstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma hadn't meant to do it, but that didn't mean she was going to apologize for it either. She had saved their lives after all. Just, you know, not without trapping herself and Hook in a magical bubble that didn't really seem all that intent on letting them leave. </p><p>Wonderful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Convenience

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: The lovely Clockadile has posted some awesome artwork for this story! Check it out here: http://clockadile.tumblr.com/post/67650850594/cause-thethirdstars-a-matter-of-convenience-had

Things were not going well. In fact, Emma Swan would go so far as to say they might be hovering somewhere between complete shit and totally fucked. She pulled her fist back and slammed it once more against the magical barrier but it did little other than flash a little brighter at the impact.

“If you wanted to get me alone, love, you needed only to ask,” Hook’s stupid, _infuriating_ voice drawled from behind her, “no need to expend all this extra effort.”

Emma spun on her heel, fists clenched. “I know this may be hard for you to comprehend, Hook,” she pointed a finger at his face, “but not everything is about _you_.”

Hook made a show of widening his eyes in false shock and looking around the space protected by the magic bubble she had accidentally erected while they were being attacked by Lost Boys.

“So this is all a hallucination? A _dream_ perhaps?” His mouth twisted into a smirk, “You’re a bit more, uh… _clothed_ than usual, Swan.”

Emma shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths trying to calm herself. She was, not unexpectedly, extremely unsuccessful. She opened her eyes again and fixed him with a sickly sweet smile.

“Is it at all possible for you to shut up for five minutes while I figure out how to get us out of here?”

“I suppose it is _possible_ ,” he ran a finger along his hook with a small shrug, “but I must say altogether highly unlikely. I do so love our chats, Swan, I’d hate to lose such a grand opportunity as this to break down those walls of yours. Though in this case,” his eyes flicked to the shimmering barrier, “they seem a touch more literal than usual.”

“Okay,” Emma slapped a hand to her face. “New rule. You don’t get to talk unless it’s related to getting us out.”

Hook opened his mouth probably to add some completely unnecessary comment but Emma silenced him with a glare. “I mean it. I will remove that damn hook and shove it somewhere unpleasant.”

“But—“

“Hook,” Emma’s hand made a fist and she shoved it upwards through the air, “ _unpleasant_.”

“As you wish, princess,” Hook made a deep, flourishing bow and settled down against the barrier.

“Good,” Emma turned back to gaze at her magic with a frown, “and don’t call me princess.”

“Oh? But that’s what you _are_ , love,” she could practically hear the smirk in his voice, “you do have a natural talent for giving orders, one might go so far as to call it family trait.”

“I am not a princess,” she glared at Hook over her shoulder.

“No more than I’m a pirate it would seem.”

Emma turned around as let out a sigh and slid down the barrier opposite Hook, pulling her knees up to her chest. It would appear that glaring at her magic was not the key to making it go away.

“That’s not fair and you know it. I grew up an orphan, not some girl in a castle with a tiara. You’ve never been anything _but_ a pirate,” she closed her eyes against the headache she could feel beginning to pulse inside her skull.

Emma expected some witty retort but she was met with nothing but silence.

She opened her eyes and saw Hook was looking at her with drawn brows, his mouth set in a frown. He seemed… sad almost, and Emma felt her stomach twist uncomfortably at his expression.

“Aye,” Hook glanced away, something hardening in his eyes, “nothing but a pirate.”

Emma felt something bubble up inside her, a familiar uncomfortable feeling she knew quite well. The feeling that she had let her mouth run off again, that she had used her words to hurt, to create distance.

“Listen, I –“ Emma began, something inside her needed to put that careless grin back on his face.

“It’s nothing, Swan,” Hook leaned his head back against the barrier and shut his eyes. Probably so he wouldn’t have to look at her anymore.

Emma didn’t mean to… to push everyone away. She didn’t _mean_ to run her mouth. She had sensed when they’d had their talk before the Dark Hollow that he hadn’t responded well to her calling him a pirate, even though she had only meant it as a joke. Hook was trying, she _knew_ that, she could see it every day he stayed and helped them, helped _her_ , get Henry back.

Emma felt like she knew Hook, really _knew_ him. Not because they’d spent years together or had a litany of deep, soul-bearing talks, but because they had the same heart. So scarred that she knew it must be hard and tough because they knew nothing more than that's what you needed to survive.

Go alone. Keep everyone at arm’s length. Never, _ever_ give anyone more than a sliver because they will take it and they _will_ break it.

That’s what life had taught them and, she sighed with a bitter edge, they had turned out to be apt pupils.

At least… that’s what she had thought. Until she had met Henry, until she had met Mary Margaret. Until she had met her… her _parents_ , even though the thought still felt odd and foreign in her mind.

She was trying; god knows Emma Swan was _trying_ to learn how to trust, how to be open again. But, as she looked at the lines creased between Hook’s brow, Emma knew that she still had a long way to go.

“Jones…” Emma said no louder than a whisper but it was enough. His eyes shot open and he made a small jerk as if his body was being pulled towards her voice.

Emma sighed again and stood up, making her way over to where he was sitting and plopped down beside him so they were close but not touching.

“I’m…” she began, staring at the ground with such intensity she thought it might catch fire or something, “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

What was she trying to say again? This kind of thing had never come naturally to her, especially when she had the feeling that whatever she said next wouldn’t just be brushed aside.

“I know you’re not _just_ a pirate. I—I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever possibly repay.”

Emma refused to look over at him, afraid of what she might see there.

“No, you were right, love.”

She felt Hook shift a little closer so their arms were touching, heat radiating through his coat as if he unconsciously sought her touch.

“Don’t mistake me for a good man. Or an honorable one.”

Emma glanced up and saw that Hook was gazing at the curved metal attached to his arm as if it were dripping with Dreamshade.

“Hook…” Emma saw that smirking mask start to slip back over his face.

“I am the most despicably selfish _pirate_ you’ll ever meet, don’t forget that.”

Emma considered him in silence. It was true that Hook certainly wasn’t a model for pristine behavior. She had never thought of him the way she thought of her father, with a moral code that would never be broken or an unwavering sense of duty to be good.

She thought of Killian Jones as a man. A man that had loved someone so deeply that the loss of her had broken him the same way Emma had been broken when Neal had left. She knew Hook had done terrible things in the name of revenge. But she had also seen his honor, seen his desire to do _good_.

“I don’t believe that.”

Hook let out a bitter laugh, “Then you are a fool, darling.”

Emma shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. What I do know is that you’re human. You get the same choices as everyone else. You _choose_ whether or not to do the right thing.”

“And what makes you think,” Hook clenched his jaw for a moment, “that I’m capable of that?”

“Because.” Emma gave him a small smile as Hook raised an eyebrow.

“You talk big game about being selfish and bad or _whatever_. But I know better than to listen to words, Hook. What matters is what you do. What you’ve shown me since we got here is that you are capable of putting others before yourself, of choosing your friends _._ ”

“Friends?” Hook let out a blank sort of laugh, “What on earth made you think we were all _friends_?”

“You helped David. You chose to tell us about Neal. You’ve been there for me since we got here. I may not have the most experience in the world, but even I know that’s what friends do, they help each other.”

Hook stared at her; his unnaturally blue eyes made her feel like he wasn’t even looking at her, more _through_ her. For a moment he seemed about to say something but, just as quickly, the moment passed, his familiar smirk sliding back into place and Emma couldn’t help but think that it looked more forced that usual.

“Yes, I seem to be making a rather unsavory habit of it, don’t I? Ruining my meticulously built reputation. What sort of dreadful things will they say about Captain Hook now? That he has _friends_?”

“Oh, the horror,” Emma muttered with false dread.

She could feel the moment slipping away, their familiar walls being built back up. ‘The dance,’ she thought with measured exasperation, ‘begins again.’

She couldn’t blame him, not when it was mostly her doing but she also couldn’t stamp out the hope that maybe one of their talks could end without barbs or, as was happening with alarming frequency, very uncomfortable confessions. She wanted…

She wanted them to be friends first. She could… she could trust her friends not to hurt her. Mary Margaret had taught her that. But Neal had taught her that trusting someone with your _heart_ ended with a small room, walls lined with metal bars, and a gaping, bloody hole in your chest.

She could do friends, but until Henry was back and she had time to catch her breath and figure out just what it meant to be Emma Swan, the orphan with a family, that was _all_ she could do.

“Hmm, why must such lovely women always say the most hurtful things?” Hook grinned at her but it didn’t reach his eyes, “You are cruel to accuse a simple pirate of straying so far from his path of deceit and manipulation.”

Emma raised a brow at him before leaning her head back to rest against the barrier, “Or perhaps problem is that you just make a terrible pirate. You’d better be careful, carry on like this and you might be mistaken for one of the good guys.”

Hook sunk into contemplation and she heard only the noise of the breeze moving around the barrier.

“Would you like that?” Emma heard him ask quietly after a few minutes, his voice sounded almost fragile, “If I could be one of the good guys?”

She kept her eyes shut, knowing what Hook wanted from her. But… she couldn’t give him everything. Part of her almost wished she did love him in that moment, wished that she could be the savior, _his_ savior, from the darkness that lurked in his heart. She almost wished she could bear the weight of his love and his redemption, but she couldn’t. Not the way he wanted. Not right now.

But she could be his friend. She could help him, be strong _with_ him, even if she couldn’t spare enough of her heart to be strong _for_ him.

“Yeah,” Emma replied, making sure to keep her voice measured, “I would.”

They sat in silence as the barrier shimmered around them and she felt Hook lean just slightly into her side, mirroring her position, putting his head back and letting out a small sigh.

“So… Any ideas on how to make this,” she waved a hand to gesture at the dome around them, “go away?”

“Not a one, darling,” Hook shrugged, “never been one for dabbling in magics myself.”

Emma let out a groan of frustration. “This is insane. Castles and ogres and mermaids I can deal with—“

Hooks eyebrow shot up as if to remind her that ‘dealing’ with a mermaid should not entail throwing oneself off of a ship.

“Shut up,” she silenced him with a glare before he could speak, “but _magic?_ How am I supposed to control it if I don’t even know what it _is_? Or why _I_ have it?”

Emma raised her hands, clenching them shut and shifting her glare to the offending appendages as if they’d somehow betrayed her.

“From what our villainous Queen has been trying to teach you,” he raised his good hand to one of hers, gently loosening her grip, “it doesn’t seem to be so much about controlling the magic as it is about focusing it.”

She couldn’t help the stain that crept up her checks as her hands went limp at his light touch.

“But…”

“Think of it like the sea, love,” Hook pushed her fingers straight one by one, his eyes distant as if he hadn’t even realized what he was doing, “first thing you learn as a sailor is that you can’t control the water. She’ll go where she will and she's just as likely to swallow you whole as let you live. You can’t _control_ the ocean, darling, you can only channel what little she sees fit to give you.”

“You have whole sea of power within you, Swan,” his thumb ran from her little finger down to her palm, “but it is not yours to command, no more than the sea is mine. You must learn how to be its partner. You must learn how to channel your gift, get to know it as intimately as you would a lover, not try and force it into whatever form is convenient for you.”

“With my… uh, emotions?” Emma stared at his thumb as it traced small circles and felt her breath starting to become shallow.

“Aye,” Hook nodded slowly, “I believe that’s what dear Regina was getting at. It’s not about calculation or planning, it’s about _feeling_ , using those emotions to channel the power. The magic will know what you need, you just have to trust it.”

“Trust… it…”

Hook’s hand stilled suddenly and his eyes shot to hers, “I apologize, I didn’t…”

He made to pull it away but Emma caught his hand in her own before he could, “No, I – thank you, that… that actually makes more sense.”

A small smile graced his face and Emma wished he looked this sincere more often.

“Always happy to serve, though I wouldn’t be taking it as law, darling. I’m no expert in the field, merely an observer with a penchant for nautical analogies.”

She chuckled as she let go of his hand, but he didn’t move it away.

“I think what we should do is try to figure out what caused you to create the barrier in the first place.”

Emma sighed, “It’s not like we need Sherlock Holmes for that.”

“Who?” He glanced at her curiously.

“Never mind, he’s a detective, solves crimes, uses morphine like most people use coffee.” Emma wondered if explaining obvious references would ever get less strange. “We were getting firewood, heard a noise, and went to investigate it—“

“If I’m not mistaken, I believe this is the part where you stubbed your toe on a rock and let out a quite impressive string of profanity, thus alerting our foes of our arrival,” Hook shot her a toothy grin.

Emma rolled her eyes, deciding to ignore him, “They started firing arrows at us and then… then I think I threw up the barrier?”

“Do you remember thinking any particularly emotional thoughts? Anything that might trigger your magic?”

“I….” Emma frowned as she tried to remember.

 _“Son of a_ bitch _,” Emma spat out as she hopped lightly on one foot, “cock sucking, motherfucking,_ whore! _”_

_“Not that I don’t find you spewing profanity on the highest plane of eroticism,” Hook was suddenly beside her, his good hand placed firmly over her mouth, “but I think we best not be making that much noise, Swan.”_

_Emma glared at him out of the side of her eye as the throbbing in her foot started to subside._

_“You done, darling?” Hook gave her a pointed look._

_Emma nodded and felt the hand pull away._

_“Was that really necessary?” Emma whispered angrily and probably much louder than she should have._

_“Well look who it is…” a cold voice interrupted._

_“Evidently_ not,” _Hook grumbled as he drew his cutlass, positioning himself beside her, the point aimed at Felix’s smug face._

_“Has the Captain come back to play again? Didn’t know you missed our company so much, Jones.”_

_“How could I not?” Hook’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, “We always have such a lovely time.”_

_Felix swung his club so it came to rest on his shoulder with a soft thump. “You really shouldn’t be wandering this part of the forest alone. And here I thought you valued your life more than anything.”_

_Cold eyes shifted from Hook to Emma, “But then again, people change once they leave, don’t they? Last time you were here you were still mourning that tart of yours, what was her name again? Milla? Mallah?”_

_Emma swore she could feel the air around them drop ten degrees as Hook took a step forward, his eyes looked like the coming storm. “Watch what you say_ boy _, or I’ll start removing things. Starting with your_ tongue _.”_

_“Milah!” Felix tapped his chin with mock realization, “That was it wasn’t it? I bet she wouldn’t be too pleased to see you’d cast her aside for some new harlot without even completing your revenge first…”_

_“Shut. Up.” Hook spat and his body began to coil like he was getting ready to strike._

_Emma’s hand shot out and gripped his leather coat, pulling him back, “No! Don’t! He’s trying to bait you, don’t fall for it!”_

_She could feel Hook’s arm shaking beneath her fingers and for a moment she thought the pirate might push her off until he looked back at her and Emma could see at least a sliver of calm spread over his face._

_“I’d listen to her, Jones. You’ll be dead in a minute anyway.” Felix raised his club, “Ready, boys?”_

_There was a resounding cheer that sounded like it was coming from all around them. Dread filled Emma as time seemed to slow. Hook’s eyes met hers and all the anger seemed to slip away from his face only to be replaced by cold panic._

_“Fire!”_

_The whooshing sound of countless arrows sounded around them but Emma didn’t feel any of them pierce her. Instead, Hook moved with impossible speed, throwing himself at her so they both collapsed on the ground, his body covering hers, and his weight forcing all the air out of her body as arrows passed above them._

_Silence rang in her ears until she heard soft footfalls and Felix’s face appeared above them._

_“Good form, Jones.” The Lost Boy sneered, raising his club right above Hook’s head, “but not good enough.”_

_Emma could hear the air parting around the club as it came down towards Hook’s skull. Her eyes widened in horror as they met his, and for the briefest of seconds she saw Hook’s mouth curve up into a smile as he looked back at her._

_His eyes closed._

_“No!” Emma shouted and clenched her eyes shut, hands digging into the fabric of his coat so tightly she wouldn’t have been surprised if it tore. She felt something well up inside her, something burning and_ powerful.

_Whatever it was tore out of her, shot from her every pore as a single solitary thought filled her mind._

_‘Protect him.’_

_‘_ Protect _him.’_

_She thought she might’ve heard Hook gasp above her but there was an impossibly loud rushing in her ears that blocked out everything else._

_And then there wasn’t._

_No noise except for their panting breaths mingled next to one another._

_She opened her eyes slowly and instead of seeing Felix looming above them, she saw something shimmering, incandescent in the moonlight. A… barrier?_

_Hook’s eyes looked dazed as he stared at her with no small amount of wonder etched on his face. He rolled off and lay on his back next to Emma, breath still heavy as his eyes moved up towards the top of the dome._

_“Bloody hell, Swan… Remind me never to piss you off.”_

_“I…” Emma sat up slowly, bringing shaking hands up to her face, “I don’t... That was…”_

_“That was bloody_ brilliant _, is what that was!” Hook let out a disbelieving sort of laugh, “I thought I was a dead man for sure.”_

_“But…” Emma still couldn’t quite wrap her head around what just happened._

_“Tell me something, love,” Hook turned his head, his eyelids were lowered and she saw his tongue dart out to skim across his lower lip, “have you ever thought of using those talents for, uh,_ other _activities? I don’t think I’ve ever felt so_ tingly _before.”_

_Emma slapped one hand to her face and used the other to land a very firm punch on his shoulder, “I swear to god, Hook…”_

“It was you…” Emma’s gaze slowly moved to Hook’s face.

“Me? I hate to disappoint a beautiful woman, darling, but I’ve not done as much as a spell my entire life.”

“No, no—“ Emma shook her head, “I did it _because_ of you.”

Hook’s brow raised again and she thought she saw something like hope wash over his face for a second before it was stamped out.

“That Lost Boy was raising his club and I thought he was going to kill you.”

“I remember… I remember feeling something inside me,” Emma tapped her chest with a finger, “and I was knew…”

“What did you know?” she heard his voice whisper from beside her, low and hoarse.

“I knew…” Emma turned to look at him and realized that his face was much closer than before, their noses almost touching.

“I knew that I had to protect you, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” Hook smiled at her and then he pushed his head forward just slightly, ghosting his against the corner of her mouth, barely touching. It was the most intimate kiss she thought she’d ever felt. It wasn’t passionate like their last one, it didn’t hold the promise of more. It was thanks. And she knew it wasn’t just a thank you for saving his life, Killian Jones was thanking her for… for being _her_.

The thought terrified her.

Because she didn’t love him back.

But in that moment, Emma Swan knew that she _could_.

Emma surged forward, crushing their lips together. She wasn’t exactly sure how it happened but one moment she was leaning against the barrier and the next she was straddling his waist, slipping her hands into his dark hair and pulling him forward.

Hook seemed limp for a moment, unsure of how to respond, but as she caught his lower lip in her teeth and gave a slight pull, he let out a strangled sort of groan and she felt his hand slide up her back into his hair and the cool metal of his hook tug at one of the belt loops of her pants, pulling her hips closer.

She pulled his hair, urging him to arch his neck so their mouths could fit oh so perfectly together. His lips felt impossibly warm against hers, his tongue tracing every line that it could. She felt his fingers wrapping themselves deeper and deeper at the base of her neck like he was a drowning man and she was the only thing keeping him afloat.

Emma pulled his head just slightly to the side so his neck was bared to her. She moved her mouth down his jaw, tongue tracing the vein, and watched him swallow heavily, his breathing as heavy as it had been before. Emma couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

“Bloody _hell_ , Swan—“ She heard him choke out between gasps, “ _bloody hell_.”

She was in the middle of trailing kisses down his neck, with one hand moving down towards his open shirt when he suddenly fell back with a grunt. Emma’s arms flailed briefly as she fell forward but slammed her palms down on either side of his face to prevent herself from falling all the way.

“That was…” Hook was staring at her like she had just shown him the secret to a happy and fulfilled life. Which, not to toot her own horn, she just might have.

Emma leaned down until their mouths were only an inch apart and she saw his eyes flutter shut, his face leaning forward again. She let out a small laugh and lay a gentle kiss on the side of his mouth.

“A two-time thing.”

Hook’s eyes shot open and for a second he looked absolutely _wrecked_ until he saw the grin on her face.

“You’ll be the death of me, Swan,” he groaned.

“Not if I keep trapping us with barriers, I won’t,” Emma leaned back and looked up to see only the leaves on the trees, “speaking of, I think we’re free to go now.”

Emma rocked back on her heels and stood up, offering Hook a hand to help him up.

“So what you’re saying is that when I’m in mortal danger, you’ll throw up a fancy shield that can only be dispelled if you plunder my mouth like the wicked pirate I know you to be at heart?”

Emma crossed her arms, giving him a rather unimpressed look as Hook waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t get any ideas, Jones.”

“I’m afraid, darling,” Hook replied with a flourish of his hand, “that you severely underestimate me if you think I couldn’t have a novel written on the subject already.”

“God, you're impossible,” Emma laughed as she brushed off her jeans.

She was about to make her way back to camp when she felt his hook around her arm. Emma glanced up at him and what she saw made her heart skip a beat. He was smiling at her, _really_ smiling.

“Thank you, Emma. You saved my life.”

She couldn’t help but think he might not just be referring to what happened with the Lost Boys.

“You’re welcome,” Emma smiled back and pulled her arm up until her hand was level with his hook and grasped it in her fingers, tugging him towards camp.

She didn’t love him. She couldn’t love him, or anyone, while Henry was captured. But maybe…maybe when this was all over… Maybe they could try. They were both broken after all, perhaps if they couldn’t find a way to fix themselves, they could find a way to fix each other.


End file.
